Snapping hip syndrome- and other body ailmentsk

For the first time in my career as a ballet dancer, I popped my hip while teaching class.  Loudly. Imagine hearing classical music, then a very loud snapping sound like the pop Bert makes while rowing a boat in Mary Poppins.

The incident happened 6 months ago while I was substituting for a colleague.  The class wasn’t accustomed to my teaching methods and this required me to demonstrate combinations to keep dancers from feeling frustrated. I tend to perform complicated movements with a giant smile on my face like a balletic clown no matter the consequences.

For someone who hasn’t performed in almost 6 years, I no longer take classes in the same degree I did when I rolled on stage more regularly.  The first thing that happens to an athlete after performing haults is their stamina goes down the toilet.  I am not a runner, but during the time when I was performing on a regular basis, I would test my endurance by going for a long run to see how much time it took before I felt tired. I could run for miles.

So, popping hip syndrome was the diagnosis I received after visiting the chiropractor and surviving the massage therapist who gleefully dug an elbow into my joint.   I love her. 

What else happens to a dancer who no longer performs but still tries to stay active enough to feel healthy?  Lots of back injuries from over-rotating a tennis serve, neck cramping (I know that one feels as weird as it sounds), Charley horses in both legs simultaneously, shoulder dislocation while cleaning, and feet that I can’t stand for long periods of time without acquiring bruises.  A broken wrist from my teen years also aches more than it ever has, but God bless Arthritis Tylenol and Voltaren cream that seem to heal everything temporarily.

While dance may not be considered a sport, my ancient body would tell you otherwise.  However, the realization of my ailments has felt humbling in understanding that everything still technically works and I can somehow still stretch like a contortionist and boogie like I'm on "Saturday Night Fever."

During my career as a performing artist, I have often been tasked with accommodating requests where I am not entirely comfortable. These included but are not limited to: homeless shelters to teach children ballet technique, partnering with movers who have both physical and mental disabilities, and lots of experience with people who turn to dance in order to heal whatever traumas they survived previously.

While I may have acquired a thorough knowledge of ballet and modern techniques, as well as jazz, tap, and others, above all else I have learned compassion in this job.  Most performing artists don't enter this realm because they love dance like I did. For me it was simple. Dance is fun and I enjoy performing. From what I’ve experienced though, many dancers go to the studio for refuge and to find the best parts of themselves while moving to music. Technique is secondary. While we are able to connect with others on stage, more importantly we learn to connect with ourselves.

Two summers ago, I had the privilege of meeting Michelle Pearson, the Director of a Blackbox dance company out of Raleigh who heals through dancing. She visits veterans and jails to help people connect with others after experiencing unfathomable situations that leave them dwelling in PTSD. I was able to experience some exercises she utilizes and felt fulfilled beyond belief just from meeting her.

It’s amazing where life's journeys might lead us. I hope that one day I’ll be able to work with Michelle more, but until I have the privilege to teach healing I hope to focus on compassion. We no longer live in a time where judgment of others is acceptable. In the studio I lead with support and understanding, striving to help dancers feel confident about themselves without bringing them down or belittling their efforts.

Does every job offer these opportunities to engage through simply offering support and friendship? The truth is that everyone can dance in the same way that everyone can learn compassion, no matter their race, gender, culture, beliefs, or disabilities and I feel very proud to embrace this authentic truth, ailments and all.

For the Love of Rain

Pluviophile (“ploo vee uh file”) defines a person who loves rain or finds joy and peace of mind during storms.  How does one acquire this level of comfort during mother nature’s wrath?  I will say that sailing on a boat during inclement weather is terrifying.  However, there’s a lot to be said for a good 'ole rainy day. Sleeping is easier, there’s more opportunity for reading because obligations generally get canceled or postponed, plants get watered, and days generally conclude with fantastic rainbows.

For the longest time, I’ve tried to figure out what it is about rainstorms that people don’t like. Afraid of getting wet? Fear of bigger catastrophes? Was there a traumatic childhood experience that resulted in a fear of precipitation?

Like playing in the snow, I try to take advantage of every opportunity to go outside and frolic. You might get wet or cold, but then go back inside for a hot shower and cup-a-joe. It’s like putting in a hard day's work in order to curl up by the fireplace. My best friend from childhood, Tammy (a Honduran-Italian ball of awesomeness) and I made a habit of rollerblading in the rain down my mile-long driveway in order to take full advantage of the living sprinkler system as kids.   It felt like the sky was shooting out confetti and we didn’t want to miss the party.

I can understand the fear of extreme flooding after driving through very questionable small lakes in Tampa (the lightning capital), and witnessing hurricanes that whip trees in unpredictable directions, and listening to crashing sounds of hail right before a tornado barrels across the lawn, but these seem like anomalies. In general, rainstorms bring life to the landscape and worthwhile excuses to take a day off.  Perhaps there's a fear of inactivity people don’t like. As someone who constantly overcommits, a day of laziness sounds delicious, but what might be my circus is another person's torment.

Whatever the reason for common dislikes of rainy weather, I invite you to go outside next time the sky opens up and take in the breeze. Put your arms out, look up to the heavens and feel gratitude for being alive.

Notes of Inspiration

From time to time, but more regularly in recent years, I’m asked to choreograph original works aside from musical theater shows and studio ballets.  Fulfilling artistic requests have been made easier from having pre-written lists of brainstorms that accumulate over time in my “notes of inspiration”.

Inspiration can hit from all angles anytime during the day when something looks interesting or I’ve read something that stands out. Quotations from books make awesome choreographic starters.  Lists of explorative movement ideas that range everywhere from the use of words like imbalance and sizzle, to words that I find fun to play with like onomatopoeia, obsolescent, or just the letter F (the best letter in the alphabet).

Musical inspiration is equally as wonderful for discovering inspiration. If I pair a quotation with a dope song, it makes choreographic magic happen. I prefer older tunes for songs with lyrics and new music for instrumentals. Songs need to be played hundreds of times in order to turn them into movement with inflection, telling narratives through body language.   

Becoming reestablished in the local art scene every time we move has been a challenge. I’ve gone years without choreographing at all, and then years when I’ve been asked to set 20 unique pieces.

Dance has become an unexpected lifetime of obsession. Stopping feels like being a recovering alcoholic.  “What’s next?”  “How can I be in the studio all day?”

I think the most important thing is to have an outlet. Let it be cooking or writing or painting or dancing or playing music or just spending time with animals, or in the garden. The more time we spend in any of these creative realms opens awareness where art becomes obsession, or maybe it’s just love.  It doesn’t matter who will see the masterpiece other than us because it’s self-care. I care about myself enough to think about choreography, no matter when it might come to fruition, if it ever does.

Dancing is an interesting choice of outlet because oftentimes its dependent on other people and having space to work. Yesterday, I was given keys to a new studio space and it felt like Christmas. I don’t own the studio but just having access to space is like a gift. “Oh, I get to dance in here? Why thank you!!” I have no doubt my goofy grin came out to play in an alarming beam of teeth.

The most interesting comment I hear as an artist is when people tell me, “I’m not creative at all.”  How does this work?  While I can understand that not everyone visualizes how Ballet and Bollywood might look performed on stage in petticoats, feeling inspiration might be one of my favorite past times.

Knowing how to move forward with bouts of inspirations might be the most challenging layer to the process.  I will tell you that the options are endless.  Photography might be the simplest form of capturing art now that everyone has a camera in hand at all times.  We even have a method for sharing images like never before.   I think sharing art, while it may not feel important during the process of creation is the goal in the end.

Wouldn’t you like to see a Bollywood Ballet in Pet Coats?

See what I did there? 😉